


Hold me closer to the sun (Hold me closer to the sea)

by commatme



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Face-Fucking, Fluff, Frottage, Idiots in Love, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Steve McGarrett's abandoment issues, Touch-Starved, steve just wants to be held (down) by danny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-27 20:47:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20766719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/commatme/pseuds/commatme
Summary: He’s caught between the sensation of Danny’s mattress at his back, soft and bouncy and probably expensive, and Danny sliding over him, solid and hot and completely priceless. If Steve could live here, frozen in this moment, he would, trapped between sheets that smell like Danny and the real thing.





	Hold me closer to the sun (Hold me closer to the sea)

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from _Hold Me Closer_ by Yuck. It's a song with very few lyrics, so the title of this fic is about one third of them, but another third is "I wanna be the only best friend that you have" and, uh, yes. They wrote a song about Steve McGarrett and they probably didn't even know it.

It’s happened a few times before by now. They’ll be sitting next to each other, totally normal, and then one of them will tip a little too close and the other will tip a little too closer, and they’re kissing, tearing at buttons, scrambling for purchase. It’s never happened quite like this, though, with Danny herding Steve down the hall to his bedroom.

Danny’s bedroom, which, Steve realizes with a start, he’s never set a foot inside. He lets that dawn on him for a moment. He takes in as much as he can – the framed pictures on the wall, the bookcase at the far end, the small multicolored rug at the foot of the bed. The entire décor has a tasteful earthen color scheme that gives off the impression that Danny put some thought into how it would look, as opposed to the cobbled together, outdated mess of things that make up Steve’s bedroom. He’s still sleeping in the bedframe his parents bought when they got married.

Then Danny pokes him in the back because he’s blocking the door and it’s all movement again, a mad rush to get rid of their own socks and pants and underwear as efficiently as possible, shirts already long forgotten on the living room floor.

Steve gets naked first, which suits him just fine, because it means he gets to tumble onto the bed first, too. He’s caught between the sensation of Danny’s mattress at his back, soft and bouncy and probably expensive, and Danny sliding over him, solid and hot and completely priceless. If Steve could live here, frozen in this moment, he would, trapped between sheets that smell like Danny and the real thing. He wants all of this to swallow him whole.

Danny’s hair is not truly messed up yet, but it’s tentatively taking advantage of his horizontal position by pushing at the edges of its freedom. “I’m a genius,” Danny says, a couple of strands falling forward over his temple.

Steve has no idea what Danny is talking about. “Uh huh.” He skates his hands up Danny’s arms. Danny’s biceps are flexed because he’s on his hands and knees, holding his body up and just out of reach of Steve’s lips and skin, which is both a pretty picture and entirely unjust.

“So much more comfortable than the couch,” Danny adds, which, ah, that explains that. Danny grins and leans down and yes, yes, good – Steve is a firm believer that the only thing that beats looking at Danny’s mouth is having it applied to his own body.

Danny kisses the edge of Steve’s jaw, the tip of his chin, the swell of his lip. Steve luxuriates in it, but it also makes him greedy. He grabs Danny’s face to lock their mouths together and Danny complies willingly and with a hint of smugness. He teases the seam of Steve’s lips and Steve opens up for him eagerly. 

There’s something about doing this in a bed as opposed to on a couch (or up against the kitchen counter, that one time) that makes the last of Steve’s mental defenses melt away. He feels needy and shameless about it, but he’s naked on Danny’s very high thread count sheets with the solid, scorching line of Danny’s bare cock pressing into his hip and Danny’s weight bearing down on him a little more with every passing minute, so maybe that’s okay.

Steve is not inclined to move for maybe the next hundred years, but Danny does, rocking just slightly, and it makes them both groan. Their kiss breaks. Steve would mourn the loss of it, but Danny is stroking a thumb over his cheek and _looking_ at him and that alone could be enough to make him forget his own name.

“What do you want?” Danny asks.

Later, Steve will realize that Danny probably expected to hear something like “fuck me” or “suck my dick, please”, but he’s not thinking clearly, so he says, hands clutching Danny’s elbows, “I just need you to- Just- Don’t let me get away.”

Danny stiffens – Steve can feel it, all along his own body – and moves, but so that he can push himself up on his arms again, to introduce more distance between them. Steve lets his hands fall away and just lies there, limp, with the feeling that he fucked up royally. “What?” Danny asks. He sounds way too sharp and alert now.

“Nothing,” Steve tries, in vain.

Danny completely ignores him. “You want me to- To what? Have my wicked way with you while you can’t say no?”

“_No_.” He can hear his own voice has grown sharper, too, but it’s necessary because he doesn’t- He didn’t mean for Danny to think- “Not like _that_.”

“So like what, then, huh? Explain it to me.”

“I just-” His mouth is open, but there’s nothing coming out of it.

Danny looks at him like he’s a frustrating puzzle that probably has a piece missing because it got eaten by seals. “Okay, listen up. There’s a lot of stuff I’m willing to try, but I need to know you’re into it. Consent, Steve, it’s a necessary-”

Steve cuts him off by surging up for a kiss. How’s that for enthusiastic yesses? “Consent is good,” he says, when he retreats. Having your fingers circle my wrists is better, he can’t quite get himself to say.

“It’s a little more than _good_,” Danny gripes. “But I’m glad you agree.” He relaxes almost to his previous position, which unavoidably puts more of his weight on Steve again.

“I like it when you, when you’re on top,” Steve blurts. “When I can feel you. Over me.”

“You freak,” Danny says, but the way he says it, soft and indulgent and a little mocking, it sounds like a term of endearment. “That’s it?”

He nods.

Danny laughs a little. It sounds like solving a case and long nights with friends. “Babe, you realize that’s not weird at all, right? But of course you would bring it up in the worst way possible, because there’s nothing sane about you, and how I ever thought sex with you would be any different is beyond me.”

Safe, sane, consensual: Danny is going down a list, but backwards. Steve’s heart wants to leap right out of his chest. “I feel safe.”

Danny’s eyes lose their humor and his jaw works, like he doesn’t know how to answer that. “Well, good,” he says, after a moment that stretches into eternity worse than hell week during BUD/S. His voice sounds oddly rough, which makes Steve want to study his face to get a better read of why. Danny ducks down, hiding his expression, Steve thinks at first, and maybe it’s a little of that, but it’s also Danny’s voice again, so close his hot breath ghosts the shell of Steve’s ear when he tells him, “You _are_ safe.”

Steve holds absolutely still while Danny rearranges their legs and shifts. Not away, this time; closer, until his lower half is not just straddling Steve, near but not quite there, but in full contact. He moves a little, their skin sliding and hair catching, and keeps making infinitesimal rocking movements that are never going to be enough to do more than drive them both crazy very slowly. Steve’s cock throbs.

He reaches out, up, and brings Danny’s mouth to his for a kiss again, because he needs it like air. Danny’s right hand lands on Steve’s shoulder, where it grips tightly. It starts wandering, not lightly, but flat and in contact with Steve’s skin at all time. It slides up the side of Steve’s neck before heading back down, tracing a broad half circle around his left nipple until it’s over his speeding heart, palm flush, fingers spread. Danny pushes down, like he wants to feel every beat. Like he plans on reaching right into Steve’s chest and taking what’s his.

Steve shudders.

Danny rests the last of his weight on Steve’s torso, trapping his own hand, and brings his other hand around to the nape of Steve’s neck, holding on, lifting Steve’s head off the mattress just a little to deepen their kiss. It’s possible Steve loses some time, there. He has just enough trouble breathing that it’s impossible to forget how wide and solid Danny is, how strong, and the amount of skin contact is overwhelming. Danny is heavy above him, all around him. He’s the only thing Steve can smell or taste, Danny’s quickened breathing the only thing he can hear. Steve’s eyes sink closed at some point, but if he opened them, he’d be seeing Danny.

He drifts up and up so gradually that he’s taken by surprise by his own climax. One moment he’s still climbing, the next he’s on the summit, coming hard, riding the high while Danny keeps moving and lets him come down slowly, never letting go of him.

When Danny stills, still draped over Steve like a very weighted blanket, there’s sticky warm wetness between them. Staying like this has a strange allure. At some point, they’d get fused together by his own come and they’d have to remain this way forever. 

He slowly regains the knowledge that he could do something with his own hands, so he brings them up to Danny’s spine, a kind of naked horizontal hug, and slides them down, down, until he’s cupping Danny ass, the wonderfully full roundness of it. Danny, who’s lazily nosing along Steve’s jaw, lets out a laughing huff of breath Steve can feel under his chin and in the contraction of Danny’s ribcage and the clench of his ass. Steve pulls, because Danny is still very obviously hard. Danny goes with it, rolling his hips and making a different airy noise, but he stops after one circle.

“Want to try something?”

Steve rubs a thumb along Danny’s crack. “Okay.”

“Not that,” Danny says, but Steve hadn’t even been thinking anything. He just has a hard time not feeling up any part of Danny he can get his hands on.

All of a sudden, Danny sits up, and the loss is a physical ache. Steve’s hands slip from his ass and even the warm air feels starkly cold against his luxuriously Danny-warmed, sweaty skin. He doesn’t get long to contemplate the fleeting nature of happiness, because Danny prods him until he scoots back on the bed, head and shoulders propped up against the headboard, but still lying down most of the way. 

Danny’s intentions are made clear when he follows Steve up the bed (good), straddling Steve’s slumped form (better). He’s boxed in by Danny’s thighs, Danny’s knees pressing into the sides of his ribcage. Danny’s dick is perfectly at eye height. All Steve has to do to get his hands back on Danny’s ass is reach out, so he does. He looks at Danny’s dick, flushed dark, and then looks up and up past Danny’s navel and abs and chest hair and nipples to his face, which is watching him, eyes dark too.

“Stay there. Okay?” Danny asks. 

Steve answers through action. He pulls at Danny’s ass in an attempt to get Danny’s dick where it’s supposed to be.

Danny probably anticipates him, because he braces and is barely swayed. He puts a hand on Steve’s shoulder to keep the distance. The other one is on the headboard above Steve, and Steve knows what looming means now. “I need to hear you say it, babe. Is this okay?”

“Yes.” There’s a breathless quality to his voice. Danny is not literally resting on his ribcage anymore, but it’s like Steve can feel him again. “This is really good.”

“Okay. Okay, good.” Danny’s eyes have zeroed in on Steve’s mouth, so Steve makes use of it. He licks his lips and opens up, and Danny takes his hand away from Steve’s shoulder, but it’s to guide his dick into Steve’s mouth, so that’s okay. That’s a trade Steve is more than willing to make. He runs his tongue around the head, which is already leaking Danny’s taste. 

Danny feeds his cock to Steve carefully. He thrusts in and out shallowly a few times, and it’s good, but not nearly enough. He’s barely inside halfway. Steve sucks and sucks, like he might be able to exert enough pull that way to make a change. When Danny instead stills completely for no good reason, Steve lets out a noise of protest.

“I _know_,” Danny says, with feeling. He touches Steve’s face, either tender or trying to feel himself through Steve’s cheek. Both possibilities contribute to a rise in Steve’s heartbeat, especially because Danny’s hand is trembling slightly. “Let me- Let me know if it’s too much. Yeah?”

He can’t exactly nod with his mouth around Danny’s dick, so he squeezes Danny’s ass and then lets go.

And finally Danny does, too: when he thrusts in this time, he doesn’t stop until the fat head of his dick bumps the back of Steve’s throat. The second and third stroke are smoother, slicker, Steve’s saliva easing the way past his lips. Bit by bit, Danny’s movements grow faster and lose any trace of hesitancy, until he’s fucking Steve’s mouth, fingers curving over the top of his head to hold him steady.

Steve moans and takes carefully timed breaths through his nose and lets his eyes flutter shut and realizes, somewhere in the middle of it all, that he’s hard again. 

It’s quick, so maybe he should be surprised. He can’t muster anything like it, because there’s only Danny and nothing else and he doesn’t have to worry about taking charge and being proactive because Danny has got it, Danny has got him, and it’s all going to be alright, so _of course_ he’s hard again. He hasn’t felt this good in a long time. Then he trails a hand over Danny’s thigh to where Danny’s knee presses against his own leg and grips his dick, and now _that’s_ the best he’s felt, _oh_.

He comes a second time even before Danny’s release. It’s not as gentle as the first, but it’s intense – he shudders and shoots in his hand and Danny keeps moving, Danny’s hand tight on his scalp, the snap of his hips ever harder, more relentless, and Steve thinks _yes_ and _come in me_ and Danny pushes far down his throat and does, pulsing hot and for long enough that Steve needs to gasp for air by the time it’s over. His throat is a little sore and his lips are sensitive and probably swollen and he’s a mess from his own come, first dried layer now papered over with a fresh one, but none of it matters when Danny collapses against the headboard, panting nearly as hard, and drags Steve sideways into him until they’re a structurally unsound heap of sticky limbs.

“You just want to be held,” Danny says, after a while.

There’s no ‘just’ about it, but the rest of it rings true. “I guess.” 

“So why didn’t you just _say_ that, huh?” Danny asks, as he scoots down and closer. Once they’re both actually lying down, he hooks an arm over Steve’s chest and tangles their legs together enough that Steve would have to do some work to get away. 

Steve lets his body melt into the mattress and soft sheets. It’s okay. Danny’s got him. “That’d be too easy,” he mumbles against Danny’s lips. “Gotta make you work for it.”

“I knew it. Lazy bastard,” Danny says, but he probably doesn’t mind too much, because he kisses Steve like he’s never letting go.


End file.
